The Widow's Challenge
by WolfSkiFace
Summary: Hawkeye is easily the closest person to Natasha Romanov. But when a particularly difficult case gets to the Widow, Clint is there to comfort her. But, can Clint make good on his promise that he will always be there for Tash?
1. Chapter 1

The Black Widow was never one for tears. She didn't cry unless there was a damn good reason too. And Clint knew every single one of them. He knew Tasha like the back of his hand, what made her scared, what effected her the worst, and how to make her feel better. So when the Avengers came back from a particularly hard mission, Clint had no doubt in his mind that he'd have to pay a visit to the Widow's room this evening.

"Tash?" Clint called through her closed door. He heard a small whimper, and took that as a cue to enter. He slowly opened the door, calling her name again.

Natasha's room was very plain, like the rest of their rooms. Her bed was pushed up to her wall, her dresser was opposite of that, and a desk faced the wall with the chair pushed in.

The widow herself was sitting up on her bed, her back in the corner of her wall, and her knees pulled up to her chest, arms curled around them. The Black Widow never looked so tiny, so fragile, unless she was afraid.

"Oh, Tash…" Clint said sadly, closing the door behind him and walking over to the shivering assassin. Her sobs started the minute Clint had his arms around her, like she was waiting just for him. She buried her head into his chest, tears rolling down onto his T-shirt. Her body wracked with her sobs, Clint whispering comforting words into her ear.

"Clint! All those people, all of them…" she repeated over and over. Clint soon couldn't take it anymore. He pulled her from the safety, the security of his chest, forcing her to look at him.

"Natasha," Clint started, making Romanov flinch. He knew she didn't like it when he used her full name. No one did anymore, so when he did, it made her feel like she was in trouble.

"Natasha, none of that, _none of that, _was your fault! Do you understand? He was a manipulating, ass-hole! Understand?" Clint said, shaking her slightly. She tried to not look at him, afraid and ashamed, like a child being scolded by a parent. Romanov bit her lip and fidgeted with the quilt on her bed. Her sobs had subsided, but her tears still flowed down her ivory cheeks, gracefully curling under her chin and dropping onto her leather outfit.

Clint sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. Deeming he'd gotten through to Tash, he patted her outer thigh slightly.

"C'mon, change out of your battle stuff. You have sweats, right?" Silently, Natasha obeyed, nodding in answer to Clint's question.

Clint didn't leave when Tash changed. They were like brother and sister, or more, like husband and wife. He'd seen her lacey underwear, and she'd seen his plaid boxers.

He watched as she pulled on an old T-shirt and grey sweats, tying her hair up in a rare-sighted ponytail. When she was done, she looked at Clint, as if asking permission to get back onto the bed. Clint nodded, patting the part of the bed that was between him and the wall. Tash didn't like having her back exposed because she was afraid of being kidnapped, like she had been so many times before. So she was snuggled in, sandwiched between Clint and her plain wall.

Clint grabbed a novel off of Tash's bed side table. His back was up against the head board, Natasha under his arm, her slender hand on his chest, as he read aloud. She had her head in the crook of his shoulder, listening to his calming voice.

"Okay, I say its time for bed, seeing as its after midnight." Clint marked his place in the book and put it back on the table.

Clint looked at Romanov, and saw that as soon as he'd stopped reading, anxiety had crept back into her eyes, her mind. So instead of turning out the light, he wrapped his hand around Tash's waist and, feather-lightly, stroked her exposed tummy.

Romanov, surprised and, secretly, extremely ticklish, burst into a fit of rarely seen giggles. Clint soon joined her, as she thrashed around, laughing and trying to get away from Clint's devilish fingers.

After about a minute, Clint stopped, letting Tash catch her breath. She sent him a mock glare, lightly slapping his arm.

"That was _not _fun, Clint!" She told him.

"I beg to differ. It was extremely fun!"

"For you!" Romanov countered. Clint chuckled.

"Yes, it was." He said as he turned out the light. He pulled the blanket over the both of them, his strong arms wrapping around Natasha, making her feel safe. She welcomed that, snuggling closer to him, her face and head resting against his strong chest, his scent washing over her. She hated it when she had to go more than two days without smelling his, pine, oaky scent.

"Night Hawky." Natasha said playfully.

"Night Tash."

"Clint?" Natasha asked, her voice small and shy.

"Don't…don't leave me. Please." She said, even more quiet.

"Natasha, I will never, _never, _leave you. I will always protect you. I will always be there for you. I will _never hurt you. Never._"

Clint bent his head to kiss Natasha's cheek.

"Never." He whispered again into her ear. He heard her breathing hitch, and a sniffle, before he hugged her close to his chest, rubbing her back.

"Sleep, Tasha." He cooed, rocking back and forth ever so slightly. Little did her know, his promise would soon be put to the test.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint woke up that morning, his arms still wrapped around Tash. She, on the other hand, had rolled over during the night, her sweat pants unevenly rolled up on each leg, the back of her T-shirt pulled up so far Clint could see the back of her bra.

Clint chuckled. She'd never been a restful sleeper. Thinking back to his little stunk last night with the tickling, he slowly, lightly, ran a finger up Natasha's spine, watching gleefully as her skin twitched under his finger. Tash groaned and rolled away from his touch, smooshing her face into the pillows. She grumbled something unintelligible, before Clint rose from the bed, taking Tash with him.

She thrashed around and tried to grab something to keep her on the bed, but Clint was faster. He had her up and thrown over his shoulder with amazing speed. She giggled, half angry for being woken up, and half of her happy, because it was Clint, after all. But in the next few seconds, she'd find herself almost hating him.

Clint sat back down on the bed, securing Tash's feet under his arm for his own safety, and started to mercilessly tickle the Black Widow's feet. The poor, helpless girl thrashed around, shrieking with laughter, that soon even Clint's echoed with her.

After what seemed like an eternity to Natasha, Clint stopped, still laughing himself. He released her feet, and she drew them close to her instantly, protecting herself from another tickle attack.

Clint finished his chuckling and got up, offering Natasha his hand. When she eyed him suspiciously, he said, rolling his eyes, "I promise not to tickle you for the next hour." And as soon as she took his hand, he added slyly, "Maybe."

Clint yanked her up and twirled her around, bringing her in for a quick kiss on the lips. She smiled at him, biting her lip, before dancing up on her tip-toes and pecking his cheek. She grabbed his hand and headed for the door, dancing and twirling around him a little bit on the small journey to the door.

As Clint opened the door, he was met with a gun barrel in his face.

"Step away from Romanov, Barton." Fury said, the holder of the gun.

"What the-" Clint started, before some other agents were dragged him away. Romanov was roughly handcuffed and led out of sigh.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, FURY!?" Clint demanded, in the privacy of the conference room.

"Calm down, Barton, let me explain-" Fury started, before being cut off.

"Explain what, Fury! That you just handcuffed my partner and dragged her off!"

"There was a breach in the system today, Barton."

"So?"

"We tracked the license to Romanov's."

"That's impossible, Fury, she was with me all night." Clint explained.

"She could've drugged you."

"I didn't drink anything with her."

"She could've snuck out when you were asleep."

"She'd've never been able to get back into my arms, how I woke up."

"Barton, the point is-" Fury started again.

"The point _is, _someone used Tash's license to hack the system. _It wasn't her."_ Clint said, deadly calm.

"You can't know that, Barton. Now leave." Fury said. It wasn't up for negotiation. Clint clenched his teeth before punching the table, leaving a good sized dent. He could be quite strong when angry. He stalked out of the room, still unfathomably mad.

Clint walked down to where he knew they'd be keeping her.

"Tash…" Clint said as he reached her cell. It had taken a considerable amount of persuasion of the guard to allow him back here. She was just sitting in the corner of her cell, like a forlorn animal, not looking at Clint.

"I can't come too close to the bars, Clint." She moved her hair, revealing a thin collar. It didn't take a genius to figure out what it was.

"They're going to hurt me, Clint. They're going to torture me into confessing, I just know it."

"How can you know that, Tash?" Clint asked softly.

"Because that's what they had me do. On top secret missions, where I interrogated someone, I had to torture them." Tash admitted sadly.

"Tash, those were lying, thieving scumbags. You're nothing like them." Tash nodded sadly, tears escaping down her face. For the first time, Clint couldn't hold her. He couldn't stroke her hair and say everything would be okay. He couldn't even touch her.

Clint filled with rage. Fury made this more than personal.

"Tash, I swear to you, I will do everything in my power and then some to stop Fury from hurting you." Clint said, dead serious. Tash only nodded. No hope filled her. She barely felt like herself.

"Where-where are you going, Clint?" Natasha asked as he got up from his previous spot on the floor.

"To light a fire underneath someone's ass." Clint said.

**A/N: Okay guys, end of Chapter 2! Please read and review, and remember that I own nothing but the idea! All characters, settings, ect, belong to Marvel. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for all the Faves and Followers! I'll keep posting if you keep reading! I'm trying to do a chapter a day, but with soccer and school and such, that might not happen. **

**Disclaimer: I one only the ideas in this fic.**

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And light a fire under someone's ass Clint did. He burst into a conference that Fury was in and went straight for the man's throat. Clint had the one-eyed man up against the wall before about four agents got him off Fury and held him back, a good 10 feet or so.

"What the _hell, _Barton! What's the matter with you?" Fury said angrily, rubbing his neck.

"Me!? _ME?!" _Clint said furiously.

"What's the matter with _you! _You have one of the best agents SHEILD has ever seen caged like a damn animal!" Clint spat at Fury. With another mighty thrust, Clint very nearly broke the agents grasp. Just nearly.

"Barton, listen to me… Someone broke into our systems. We found what they stool… Widow's ledger."

Clint stopped struggling. The agents released him, still standing close in case he decided to go after Fury again.

"But why… why would someone want her ledger?" Clint asked, confused. Fury gave him a look that said 'Think Barton.'

"No…no! Fury, she wouldn't erase her ledger! She knows she has red on it, but she's smart. She also knows that you know why it's red, so erasing it wouldn't _help _her! She knows that, Fury." Clint added quietly.

"You can't know that, Clint." Fury said, sincere. Fury turned to leave, Clint still confused with his thoughts.

"And Barton, I know you'll find out anyway, but she's being interrogated tomorrow. And I stongly suggest you don't come." Fury added, before leaving. The agents followed after him, leaving a stunned and extremely confused Clint.

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"The interrogation's tomorrow." Natasha said, right off the bat.

"I know." Clint sighed. "Fury told me." Natasha looked surprised.

"He did?"

"Yeah." Clint sighed again, and decided to tell her the truth. "He also told me… that I shouldn't come."

Natasha gave a small whimper. She culled her arms around her knees, drawing them tight to her chest. At this point, she'd give anything to have Clint tickle her, tickly her so much that she couldn't breathe. But she couldn't. Clint couldn't get in here, and she could touch him. She was alone. And for once in her life, that bothered her.

"Tash, here." Clint balled up an old scarf of his that he'd worn on their very first mission together, and threw it in to Natasha.

"Please don't try to kill someone with it." Clint said, trying to make Natasha smile. She only nodded.

"I'll be at your interrogation tomorrow." Clint said, getting up.

"Please don't." Tash whispered.

"Why?" Clint asked, bewildered.

"Because I don't…" Tash took a deep breath before continuing. "I don't want you to see what they do to me."

Her big green eyes almost made Clint agree.

"I'll be there, Tash. For you and only you. And if they hurt you… I'll make Fury a blind man."

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"So, Romanov. May I call you Natalia?" Agent Smith said, watching Tash flinch at her old name. Smith was the worst, most ruthless interrogator in SHEILD.

"No, you may not." Tash said through clenched teeth.

"Okay Natalia. You've been very busy. Killing thousands in Budapest, taking out the Prime Minister in Uganda… Very interesting." Smith mused, mocking Tash, whom was in a chair that had leather straps for restraining the prisoner on the arm rests and down on the legs of the chair.

"All mandatory missions, Avery." Tash saw with satisfaction as Smith drew in a quick, angry breath. He hated his first name, named after his hated father.

"Very well, Natalia. But I see slip-ups on this file… _Red, _if you will. Like stealing classified information two nights previous." Smith said, slamming the file onto the table. He leaned over, peering at Natasha from a mere two inches.

"So, care to tell me where you've hidden the flash drive on which this classified information is?" Smith now leaned over Natasha, looking down at her. She hated that feeling of being dominated, of nneing under someone else.

"I'm not sure, Avery, because I didn't break into you goddamned system!" She screeched, rising from her chair as she did so.

"Tut tut," Smith tsked, "We can't have you getting out of your seat, now can we?" Quick as lightning, Smith threw a punch to Natasha's gut. As she doubled over, he pushed her back into the chair, securing her hands and feet.

"That's better now, isn't it?" Smith said.

"Super comfortable." Tash said, her breath returning after a couple of seconds.

"So I thought. Now back to that flash drive…"

"I DIDN'T FUCKING TAKE IT!" Tash yelled, loosing her cool. Smith just smirked.

"Yeah, right." He said as he took a vile filled with yellow liquid, and took out a syringe, filling it.

"Wh-what the hell is that?" Tash asked, eyeing it, frightened.

"Oh, just a little concoction. Makes your body feel like it's on fire. Hurts like a son of a bitch." Smith said, smirking. He rounded the table, coming over to Tash.

"Last chanced, Romanov. Where's the info?" Smith said, the needle poised but a few centimeters from her skin.

"I didn't t-take i-it, Smith. I-I swear!" Her voice was feeble, faltering under the sight of the needle. Her body shook, her eyes clenched tight. Her breath came in short, heavy gasps.

"Okay then, Romanov, have it your way…" Smith said. Just as the tip of the needle brushed her skin, she yelled horror.

"STOP!" Smith so startled, he actually did. Romanov was hyperventilating, in the midst of a panic attack. She absolutely, positively, hated needles. Not a well known fear, mostly because she'd always had good composure.

"A-agent Romanov?" Smith asked nervously.

Clint who'd been watching the whole thing, jumped to the door. A couple of agents tried to hold him off, but he pushed them off, wrenching the door open. Fury grabbed his arm.

"The hell do you think you're doing, Barton!" Fury demanded.

"She's having a damn _panic attack, _Fury!" And with that, Clint rushed into the box.

"Hey, hey, hey, Tasha, look at me. Right here Tash. I'm here, see?" Clint said, unlatching her. She was shaking all over, scared to death. He stood her up, pulling her into his chest, running a hand up and down her back, while recounting all they had done in the last week, leaving out the prison incident, of course.

Her breathing was better, not great, but better. She had started crying, so Clint held her tighter.

"Clint," Fury said quietly, "She needs to go to the Infirmary."

"No!" They both said Clint's much more powerful than Natasha's weak whimper.

"No," Clint said again. "It'll just freak her out more. She won't be able to sleep, and they'll just knock her out. She hates those drugs." Clint explained, before pushing past Fury and leading Natasha to her room.

"C'mon, Tash. You're safe now. I'm here." Clint said in the privacy of their room. She shivered against his strong chest.

"I know. Love you, Hawky." She whispered, before collapsing against him. He knew she was just tired, so he got them into bed. He'd never been so happy to sleep with her. He wrapped his strong arms around her, cradling her like a child. He kissed the top of her head, smiling as she snuggled closer. But tomorrow would be a long day.

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**A/N: Okay, so not the end of my favorite Super Hero couple's story! And since I'm feeling generous, this the second chapter for today! **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey guys! Enjoy this next chapter, and R&R!**

**Disclaimer: This still isn't mine, no matter how much I wish it was.**

Clint woke up that mourning with an impending sense of dread. He knew he was probably in deep waters with Fury, but somehow, he didn't care. Natasha was safe, and that's all he cared about.

Just thinking of her panic attack made him want to kill Fury. He couldn't believe he'd driven Natasha that far. It just wasn't right. That was the love of his life, and he'd made her cry. No one does that.

And speaking of the love of his life, he looked over to Natasha. She was still close to him, having been too tired to move the night before.

It was early, and she was still fast asleep. But as Clint watched her, he became to worry. She twitch in her sleep, like she was running from something, and on her face she wore a mask of anxiety. As Clint watched, her fists clenched and unclenched, and reached a hand out, searching for Clint.

Clint gave her his hand, and saw a small smile pop across her face as she gave his hand a squeeze. He couldn't help but let a little smile cross his face as well. He adored how her small slender hand fit perfectly into his, like she was destined to be his, his and only his.

When Natasha woke up, she found Clint playing with one of her red curls. He was twisting it in and out of his fingers, manipulating it to weave unnaturally.

When Clint saw that Natasha was up, he smiled at her, but she just sighed.

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?" She asked.

"With me? Of course not." Clint answered. He earned a small smile from Tash.

"I meant with SHEILD. What did they do with traitors again around here?" Tash asked sarcastically.

"I heard they threw them into a dungeon and whipped them silly." Clint answered, equally sarcastic. Tasha lightly punched his arm.

"I'm serious. Do you think they believe me, yet?" Tasha said, suddenly very nervous. Clint looked down at his love's face. She was searching his for some kind of sign, some kind of assuredness that meant she would be alright, but found nothing of note.

"I don't know, Tasha. I really don't know." Clint told her truthfully. She shivered involuntarily. She was afraid. No, more than just afraid. She was scared to death. What if they kicked her to the curb? Off of SHEILD forever? She didn't have anywhere to go. She didn't have friends and family and a home in suburbia waiting for her to return for the weekend of holiday. She had _nothing. _

Clint watched silently as she bit her lip and fidgeted with her quilt, like she always did when she was nervous or scared. She just wanted to know what would happen to her! Was that too much to ask? Would they execute her, or erase her memory so that she couldn't reveal the secrets of SHEILD?

A booming knock at the door startled Natasha. Clint, seeing his partner start to shake without meaning to, got up and answered. It was Fury himself, with the stunning Agent Hill and two armed guards.

"Fury." Clint regarded him coldly. Fury nodded in response. There was an awkward silence that followed. Clint didn't tell them that they wouldn't come in, but he made it very clear they weren't allowed into the room. Fury reached behind his back and slowly, unthreateningly-like, and took out a pair of handcuffs.

"Barton," Fury started.

"How could you not believe her yet, Nick!" Clint roared.

"This isn't my decision, it's the Council's. They want to interrogate her at one of their facilities." Fury said gently. But Clint didn't move.

Natasha, watching the ordeal, shrank closer to the wall, pulling the blanket around her as if it would protect her.

"Clint, don't make this harder. The sooner we get her there, the sooner we get her back." Fury reasoned, but Clint remained rooted to the spot. After a few seconds of a silent staring contest, Clint sighed, and turned, walking over to Natasha, who was utterly confused.

"Tash," Clint began.

"NO!" Natasha cried. "I don't wanna go, no!" Natasha said, backing up as far as the wall would allow. She sounded like a child, but she didn't care in the slightest.

"Tasha, you have to," Clint tried for a second time. This time, he tried to maneuver his hand into Tasha's, but she wouldn't have it. She pulled away.

"Dammit, Natasha! You _WILL GO!" _Clint said, yelling at her. Tears stung in the corners of her eyes. He'd never been mad at her. Never made her cry, and certainly never yelled at her.

"You will go and convince them you didn't take their damn file! Got it!?"

"No, no!" She yelled, her tears falling down her face, as Clint roughly latched onto her wrists, pulling her from the bed. He wrenched her up, and looked down into her face. Her eyes were more than afraid. She was afraid of _him. _And that made him die inside.

He had Natasha pressed up against his chest. She kept fighting him, and Clint held her in place as Hill gently handcuffed her hands in front of her. Tash wasn't fighting anymore. She just kept staring at Clint, tears rolling off of her face and onto her leather suit that she hadn't changed out of the night before.

Hill was careful, nicely taking Natasha's arm and slowly, gently, lead her out the room.

"I'll have Clint bring up some sweats for you before we leave tonight." Hill told her softly.

"No." Natasha said simply. Hill looked at her, confused.

"I'd rather go without them than have him bring them." Natasha said harshly. And just as they exited, Tasha stopped and turned to face Clint, who had a hurt puppy dog face on.

"I hate you, Clint Barton." She said, and meant it. Her eyes bore into him, and if looks could kill, he'd die slowly, Natasha willing him to suffer.

Clint sucked in a breath, dying inside. She'd never said that. She'd never come close to saying that. And before Clint could react, she was gone.

Outside, the agents all looked shocked. They all knew how close the two assassins were, and now this? Even Tasha looked sad. Her tears flowed faster, her face staring intently at the chrome floor. Hill ran a hand soothingly up her arm.

"Shhh, shh," she cooed softly. "I'll be okay, Tash." The use of Clint's nickname for her made her breath hitch. And before she knew it, she was boarded onto a plane to wait for a couple of hours. Hill had gotten her to change into some more comfortable clothing, and when it was time for take-off, at precisely 1900 hours, Tasha was sobbing quietly.

The only person who made a move to comfort Natasha was Hill. Hill sat next to her, taking her hand and giving her a small smile. Tasha gave one last sob before Hill brought her in for a hug. Romanov curled up to her, and soon had her head laid on Hill's lap. She'd long since thought of the agent as an older sister. A best friend.

"Sleep Tash. You have a big day tomorrow." Hill said quietly. Tash nodded, and closed her eyes, emotionally drained.

**A/N: So, what'd you think? Please review! It's becoming depressing to write with ONE review. Chapter 5 to be up soon! :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I really appreciate them!**

**To RosalieRowan- Thanks for your input! I am well aware that Romanov is very OOC. I just needed her to be soft for this story!**

Clint stood, star struck (and not in the good way), in the middle of Tasha's room hours after she uttered those big words. And they weren't "I love you." No, they were the exact opposite.

Finally, Clint made himself move to sit on the bed. And for hours more, he just sat there. He couldn't even say he was truly thinking. He just kept hearing Natasha's words playing over and over again. He kept seeing her scared face, tearstained and disbelieving.

Clint broke his promise. He didn't protect her. He let them take her. He practically gift wrapped her for them. And Clint knew he'd pay the price. She'd never believe him again. She would never again let him comfort her, even if she needed it more than air.

Clint felt tears sting in the corners of his eyes. What had he _done?_

Meanwhile, Natasha was currently being placed in a high security cell, guards station outside 24-7. It was tiny, with a steel bed, and desk. The bed had a thin mattress on it and an even thinner cotton blanket.

"Homey." Natasha said under her breath. She sighed. She missed… _No, _Tash thought. She didn't miss _him, _and if said person _actually _missed her, _he_ wouldn't have given her up.

Natasha reconciled herself to a crappy life anyway, so she just laid down on the scrawny mattress and closed her eyes. And stayed like that. For hours, SHEILD and the Council observed her. When they brought in her dinner, she didn't acknowledge them. She didn't eat her dinner.

SHEILD was getting worried. Council didn't seem to give a crap. They believed that this was her play, feign depression to make her seem innocent. SHEILD knew better though. The Black Widow was going to wither away without someone talking to her, to reassure her. But the Council wouldn't have it. They wouldn't allow it, and even though this was still a SHEILD base, they were loyal to the Council, not Fury.

On the night before they were set to interrogate Romanov, Hill was watching her closely through the one-way glass. As Hill watched, Natasha looked around. Her lower lip trembled, and a single tear fell from her face. It seemed as though another would follow, but Natasha dug her long nails into the fleshy part of her hand, so hard that in a few seconds it drew blood. Natasha did it again and again, until she didn't want to cry anymore.

Hill watched, horrified the Tasha had gotten to this level, before pulling over a guard.

"Put a sleeping drug into her food tonight, and also in her water. Makes sure she gets it, ok? I don't want her hands to get infected."

The guard nodded, and went to tell the cook. Hill, satisfied with her work, would wait until the drug took effect and would bandage her hands.

After a couple of hours and much persuasion from Hill, Natasha was fast asleep. Hill slowly opened the door, the guard watching her closely, and stepped in. Nat's chest rose and fell in perfect pattern, and Hill took the bandages the guard handed her. Hill took Nat's right hand, wrapping the gauze in between her thumb and pointer finger a couple times, then around her wrist a few times, repeating the process about four times.

When she did the other, Tasha stirred, but did not wake. Hill couldn't help but hurt for Natasha. They were close, like sisters, and when Hill had to handcuff her, and take her away from Clint, Hill felt awful.

With a sad sigh, Hill exited the room, hoping that tomorrow, the Council would finally see her as innocent.

"Agent Romanov, so happy you could join us again." Smith said in a fake, cheery tone. She growled under her breath at him, still angry about last time.

"So, care to revise your previous statement-"

"Cut the crap, Avery!" Natasha said angrily.

"If I say I took your damn file, can you guys just kill me so that this damn thing can be over with!?" Tash asked. Silence. Tension was high, practically tangible in the air.

Avery, as well as the rest of the guards and Hill and Fury, were shocked.

"Well?" Natasha asked angrily, breaking the silence. Smith cleared his throat.

"Yes, we would either kill you, or keep you her until you die. If you were guilty, of course." He added hastily.

"Fine." Tasha said, throwing her arms into the air. "I'm guilty then. Shoot me right here, please, I beg of you." Natasha said, her eyes staring right at Smith. Smith put his hand up to his ear piece.

"Council?" He asked in a whisper. Natasha didn't catch the rest of it, but after a few moments Smith turned back to her.

"You are hereby, as decision of and by the Council, deemed not guilty, on the theft of stealing a classified document from SHEILD databases." Smith said in a monotone voice.

A collective sigh of relief came from the SHEILD workers and Natasha herself. Smith undid her handcuffs and opened the door for her. She eyed it, not truly believing she was off the hook. There was a couple second staring contest before Tasha hauled herself up from her chair, and walked out the door.

Something swelled inside of her when she walked out of that room. Freedom. She was finally leaving this place, even if it had been only a few days, it had seemed like an eternity. But now, thinking about going home, a new fear gripped at her heart, pulled at it.

_Clint. _She wasn't sure she could face him again with her head held at least sort of high. She wasn't sure she could look him in the eyes again, after what she'd done, what she'd said.

As she boarded her jet back to SHEILD with Hill and Fury, she dedicated the seven hour flight on how to make amends to Clint.

Natasha had hardly stepped off the jet on the Helicarrier before she heard something that made her freeze in her tracks.

"Natalia Alianovna Romanova." Clint said behind her, a couple yards away. Natasha turned slowly. She felt like a child when he called her by her full, _real, _name. When she was facing him, he spoke again.

"Come with me. _Now." _Clint didn't yell, but it was obvious the usually stoic archer was concealing a lot of anger and frustration.

There seemed to be every single pair of eyes on the deck as she walked slowly over to Clint, looking at the ground.

Clint gripped her upper arm roughly and marched her away from prying eyes, down, down, down, into the privacy of her room. When he got her there, he thrust her inside, and closing and locking the door behind him.

Natasha just stood there, in the middle of the room, not looking at Clint. Clint stared at her, arms crossed over his chest, his fingers drumming an unknown rhythm on his arm. They stayed like that for a couple more seconds before Clint picked up Natasha and, sitting on the edge of her bed, put her over his knee.

"Cl-Clint?" Natasha asked shakily. She knew what generally happened in this position, but never had Clint done this to her.

"Natasha," Clint said calmly, "I think it time I taught you a thing or two about respecting me, even if just as partners." Natasha whimpered, knowing she was in for it now, but made no attempt to escape. She knew it'd make what was about to happen, a hell of a lot worse.

**A/N: Well, here's chapter 5! Read and review as always, please, and if you couldn't tell, there will be slight corporal punishment in Chapter 6. I'll give another warning in the next chapter, too. **

** ~Taylor!**


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